He focused on the red carton. "Well ... then yeah. I'd like that. A lot."
As Reilly got busy texting her mom, he said, "I promise to be on my best behavior."
The dark bass in his tone suggested he wasn't just talking about table manners, and she knew it was the kind of vow she should take as well. It took two to tango, and God knew she'd been right there with him in her kitchen.
Then again, she wasn't wearing anything Victoria would go hush-hush about. So they were probably safe.
Probably.
"Okay, how do you spell 'Heron,' " she murmured as she pulled up a blank incident report on her screen.
There was the briefest of pauses. And then he said quietly, "Just like the bird."
Chapter 18
As night fell, Adrian was drunk ... but not horny.
The two didn't always go together. It was very possible for him just to be horny - for example, whenever he woke up, he was usually ready for some action as well as stone-cold sober. However, very rarely did he float a couple of beers without getting that itch that had to be scratched. And it wasn't that he ever got piss-faced drunk - he wasn't sure that was possible. But angels could get buzzed, and generally speaking, that led to all kinds of hi-how're-ya.
As he put down yet another empty longneck, he counted on his fingers. "Wait, was that six? Or seven for us?"
For once, the other angel was keeping up with the pound-backs. Ever since the pair of them had walked through the Iron Mask's front door an houromise t, the guy had been going one-for-one with Ad's pace.
"Eight," Eddie muttered, as he held up his hand for the waitress.
The woman immediately nodded and headed for the bar. She'd been good: moved fast, kept her eyes open, and didn't seem interested in cutting him and his boy off.
As Adrian waited for the next round to be delivered, he sat back in the crushed-velvet booth and surveyed the dark, moody crowd. Out of habit, rather than necessity, he guessed it was time to switch modes from drinking to f**king.
Such a romantic, wasn't he.
At least he knew he'd find something. This Goth club was the sort of place he felt perfectly comfortable in - the cast of characters, from the bartenders to the waitresses to the people filing past, were all his people: not a pink, paisley, or preppy POS in sight.
And usually it took him no more than a minute and a half to find a worthy candidate. Tonight? Even the chippie with the butt-length black hair and the Marilyn Monroe and the satin bustier wasn't capable of getting his ass off the couch.
Come to think of it, he wasn't even hard.
Fucking Jim Heron.
The waitress showed up with the next set of longnecks, and Eddie leaned forward to put yet another twenty on her tray. He passed Ad's bottle over and settled back.
"I think we need to get busy," Eddie said.
" As in ..."
At that moment, Rapunzel of the night paraded by, shakin' that ass, and Eddie's eyes followed the show, burning deep red.
Well, wasn't this a role reversal. Typically, Ad was the scout.
"Why don't you do some business." Adrian sucked half his beer on a oner. "I'll watch your Bud."
The long-haired woman paused just past where they were camped out and looked over her shoulder. Given her expression, she might as well have just laid herself naked on a table for them.
"You sure?" Eddie asked.
"Yeah, I'm just going to hang."
"I won't be long."
"Take your time." Hell, the night was long. Maybe a couple more in him and he'd be ready. God knew Eddie could go for days straight, so they could still double-team something.
As Eddie rose to his feet, his erection was obvious - and the kind of thing that Enzyte guy from the TV, Bob, took all those pills to sport. And as the female who'd caught the angel's eye got a proper look at him, she practically levitated out of her bustier, her hand creeping up to her throat ... and drifting down to her cle**age.
You can cut the seduction, sweetie, Adrian thought. You got him.
And he was going to be spectacular.
Eddie always was.
"Have fun," Ad muttered.
"You know where to find us if you change your mind."
As Eddie took off, Ad finished his beer ... and, as time crawled by, went to work on his buddy's.
"You didn't find her attractive?"
The low drawl made his skin crawl.
And he refused to look to the left. "Evening, Devina."
The demon sauntered through his field of vision and took Eddie's spot in the booth. From out of the corner of his eye, he saw that she was in a stunner of a black dress, the kind that made more sense for a fancy-schmancy cocktail party at some mansion ... the kind that parted to show so much leg that the garters holding her stockings up made a brief appearance.
"You don't fit in here, Devina."
"I know, I'm too good for this place - happens to me all the time." As the waitress came over, the demon smiled. "A glass of white wine if you have it. And put it on his tab."
"Don't have a tab," he cut in.
"Then he'll pay cash."
Adrian felt the first stirring in his cock, but it wasn't sexual. It was anger toward the enemy. Man, he was never aroused by her the proper way, but she did make him hard.
Was it the same for Jim?
"So where is your third wheel," the demon asked. "I believe you are missing one part of your tripod."
The good news, he supposed, was that Devina couldn't be in two places at once. So the girl getting banged in the bathroom with Eddie definitely wasn't her. And wherever Jim was, the enemy wasn't with him, either.
"What brings you here," he asked.
"No comment on my inquiry?"
"Nope."
"Ah, well ... I'm looking for you, actually. Flattered?"
"Not in the slightest."
"I thought you might need some company."
He opened his mouth to say he was good and she could f**k off, but then he thought about Jim out there on his own. No doubt the motherfucker was still working the angles with DelVecchio, charging forward without them. With that damn necklace around his throat.
And here they were, sitting on their asses, stalled out like a couple of bitches.
Adrian forced his head toward Devina. As she smiled at him, her perfect white teeth glowed even in the darkness, and he couldn't help remembering all the fun things they'd done together.
Real laugh riot.
His gut churned.
And the grinding got worse as she inched closer to him. "I've missed you."
"I doubt that. I know you've been busy."
"With Jim, you mean?" She leaned in, her perfect br**sts pushing against his upper arm. "Jealous?"
"Yeah. Abso seething."
Her ruby red lips brushed his ear. "You don't lie very well, but you are a very good lay."
"And the opposite would be true of you."
At least that offended her enough so she pulled back. "That is so untrue. I am a fantastic f**k."
He laughed on a hard exhale. Typical - she didn't even care if she was called out on the other shit.
The waitress delivered the wine, and though he could have been a prick and made the demon pay was afraid of dragging the poor human with the cocktail tray into this mess. Ponying up a twenty, he was relieved to see the woman go on to other people.
Devina eased back into the booth and ran a delicate finger around the foot of the wineglass.
What the hell was she doing here? he thought. She was a vicious bitch, but she didn't kibitz. And she'd just had Jim, for chrissakes, so it wasn't like she was desperate for sex.
"So where is Jim?" Devina asked over the rim of her chardonnay. "Back with your boy, doing some silly piece of ass?"
Adrian frowned. She made the statement sound like it was rhetorical, but he could see through her falsely casual routine: She didn't know where the savior was, did she. Jim was blocking her.
Somehow, the bastard had figured out a way to go truly invisi, so to speak.
Holy. Shit.
Adrian smiled. "You could go see for yourself."
Her eyes slid away. "I'd rather be with you."
Liar, he thought. "I'm touched. But I don't think that's the truth, is it."
"I'm choosing to sit with you now."
"Yes, you are, aren't you."
Her stiletto bounced at the end of her foot as she kicked her lower leg with impatience.
"You know, Adrian, you ever get bored with being a Goody Two-shoes, you could come over to my side."
"Because you have cookies, right."